Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 168
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story, however, is my original thought and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
Thank you for your recent post: Bookworm Gal (If you thought Jim was creepy before, wait. Full creep ahead.) , goanago (Thanks for the multiple post. Here's your update.), bruderlein (Thank you much. How far will Sherlock go to save those he loves?), Benfan (Thank you for the multiple reviews. More than a bit not counted coming up.), Cumberbatch of Derren Brownies (Hang in their season threes around the corner. At least that is what I tell myself and my moments of agony.) gemstone1234 (If the last few chapters have rendered you speechless. Forgive me for the following chapters.) kassandwich (You know you're Sherlock. Very good.), Kitiara88 (Get your tea and teddy bear. A few secrets will be revealed.) Coolness10123 (Did not mean to kill you, sorry. I hope this makes up for it. :)), socalrose (Thanks for the multiple chapters reviews. I agree with you. John is like a mirror to Sherlock. He helps him to see who he really is.) foxeeflame (Thank you for your comments. Here are a few chapters to hold you over until next weekend.), eohippus (Thank you for the multiple post. Warning; Get your tea and blanket before reading.), RawrxSushi (Thank you for your comments. The battle begins in earnest.) And to all guest and PMs, thanks.
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See rating warning.
Last week's optional fun question was… In which BBC episode did Sherlock Holmes first use the words, "… all that matters to me is the work, without that my brain rots." The answer was, The Great Game. Thank you to all who participated. There were great guesses.
Edited Congratulations!: goanago, bruderlein, Benfan, Cumberbatch Of Derren Brownies, gemstone1234, kassandwich, Kitiara88, Coolness10123 , socalrose, foxeeflame, eohippus and Bookworm45669 .
Warning Moriarty's not nice*****. ***M rated chapters 169-171****. ****Need I Say More?
Yes? Okay. If you're not bothered by an M rating, stop reading and skip to the story.
If you want more information read on.
More information, spoilers: This paragraph contains slight spoilers. Despite the rating, these chapters are heavy with Sherlock and John and their relationship. For the younger and more sensitive readers, you may want read only 168 (Rated T), or skip chapter 169 (This is the most intense. It is rated M.) Everything from 169-171 are considered a M rating because of the language used, descriptions of violence and assault, as well as other mature subject matter. If you skip, I have not forgotten about you. I will write in such a way as for it to make sense. I promise. It is your choice.
Make yourself happy.
A/N: Hi everyone. After today there will be four more post, and then, an epilogue. I have decided it would be fun to title these last posts.
1 It Begins.
2. Feed the Fire.
3. Burn Baby Burn.
4. Ashes.
5. Epilogue
"… I can't count the times I have lagged seemingly hopelessly far behind, and nobody except myself thinks I can win. But I have pulled myself in from desperate [situations]. When you are behind there are two strategies – counter-attack or all men to the defenses… " chess strategy - Magnus Carlsen
Final Moves… Part I…"Attack or Defend… It Begins."
"War does not determine who is right - only who is left." ~Bertrand Russell
Wandsworth Prision
Three Days Earlier
He was not sure what had awakened him. His eyes opened into reluctant slits, as he blinked away the darkness, and the disorientation of sleep. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes traveled lazily around. The cell was small. He did not complain; he was happy to not have to share it with another person. Precautions because of his employment, former employment had been taken by the prison officials. He had gone directly there after only three days in jail, and a closed hearing before who he assumed was a magistrate and a barrister. They cited something about national security. He was not even allowed an appeal yet. He doubted that any of it was legal, but was frankly glad to be alive. That brother of Holmes terrified him.
He sighed.
He was not sure why his eyes traveled to the right, but it did. He let out a slight gasp as he sat up quickly, hitting his head against the side of the hard, unforgiving wall. He just sat there for several long minutes looking, as he tried to decide whether he was still dreaming. How could the man get into his prison cell, he wondered with alarm. What was he doing there. Did he come to harm him? If he did, why was he wearing a suit? It was much too nice of a suit to get blood on. After a few minutes of tense silence, his apparition spoke.
"Doctor Robert Anderson," the silhouette of the man in the cell spoke calmly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to talk to a man in a prison cell, at two thirty in the morning. "We need to talk."
Anderson looked warily for a few seconds. He said nothing, but looked at the silhouette as legs crossed. The shadowy figure positioned his outlined body just outside of the shaft of light, which came from the hallway just beyond the metal bars.
"You are in possession of key evidence. One was found at your place of residence, and taken. Isn't that the reason for your little holiday. But, there's another piece of evidence that no one knows about," he now leaned toward Anderson, the shaft of light reached his face, revealing shadowy contours. "Where is it?"
Anderson spoke for the first time. He was glad for the obscurity of the shadows. He hated the frightful paleness of his own face now. The dim light, however, did not hide the slight shaking in his voice. "Why should I? How do I know you're not part of some plan to incriminate me further?"
"I've been the one helping you. I'm the mysterious benefactor that Riley spoke of. I'm here to help you. You have nothing to fear from me." Sebastian Moran leaned forward even more. Half his face was now illuminated by the dim light. It gave him a sinister sort of appearance.
"You have nothing to fear mate. I'll even help get you released." Moran repeated with the voice of silk. "As long as you do as I say, what I say, how I say. Just to be clear Robert, I own you."
Even the dim light could not hide off Anderson's fear.
Sebastian leaned back and said, "Don't worry mate. We both want the same thing."
"And what is that," Robert Anderson asked hesitantly.
Sebastian said easily, "Sherlock Holmes… Broken."
Anderson smiled cautiously. It would almost make the bars, and cage, worth it. "What do you need from me," he asked.
Current Day
Current Time
Worried eyes glanced at the sleeping form. He almost looked peaceful, but he knew that peace was far from him. He walked back and forth thinking before the big windowpane. Hurried pockets of humanity scurried about. Some walked with quick long strides, while others slowly walked, or lingered about.
London.
There was no place like it on earth.
His eyes glanced to the side again. Lestrade had just left. He had been there for hours, despite the fact that he should have been at Scotland Yard. Mrs. Hudson had also just left. She went back to her flat for a short nap. She would be back up in a few hours. Mycroft was on his way over. His voice sounded odd. He stated that he had something of importance to discuss with him. Something life-changing that concerns Sherlock. To further complicate matters, as if the universe was not complicated enough at the moment, Sherlock was due to undergo the harsh treatments, which would restore his two months worth of loss memories.
If someone had said that a meteor was racing toward Europe's coast. He would not have been surprised. Why not, he thought, there is so much good news, what was one more. His hands came unnoticed through his short blonde hair, his lip twisted into a snarl. He wanted to hit something. Maybe it was more accurate to say that he wanted to hit someone. And, his name began with an M.
The familiar sound interrupted his thoughts. John opened his mouth to use profanity creatively. He glanced at Sherlock. He quickly shut it without uttering a sound. He marched over to the ringing mobile. He stretched slightly over the wooden table, picking it up. His face held a look of anger, pure in intent. He reminded himself to control his emotions. He settled himself and took a deep breath.
The mobile rang for the second time.
His eyes cast a fleeting look at Sherlock. The fact that he didn't so much as stir, was telling. John's finger hit the connect button with a little more force than needed.
"Hello love, did you like my surprise?" A cheerful voice asked on the other line of the phone.
"You evil, malicious, insane, bloody sodden bastard!" Despite the fact that John's voice was low in volume, he still managed to fill it with all of the emotions and passion that was in him.
"Well pet. This is a surprise. Where is your master?" Moriarty asked smoothly. Slight annoyance tinged his speech.
"It depends. Where's your medication?" John said with what he hoped was a steady voice.
There was a slight pause, "When Sherlock says where's my medication, it's amusing. When you asked me, where's my medication, that's just rude. Do you think it's a good idea to be rude to me? Pet?"
John took a few moments to reign his emotions in. He became likes stone. "What do you want?"
There was a chuckle. "I thought, by now, that would've been perfectly clear. But I understand that normal people can be thick. So let me make it so clear that even you will understand. I. Want. Sherlock. And I always get what I want." Moriarty let out a sigh. "It's inevitable. When he sees how everyone turns against him. When he sees how fickled the normal is. How they love him one minute then mock him the next. That might be the push he needs to give in to the dark. He still fights it, but I know it's there, inside, just under the surface."
"Is that what you call what you did, teaching him?" It was difficult for John to calm himself, despite the fact that he could feel Moriarty's parasitic need for a reaction. In a sense, the Consultant Criminal seemed to feed off of his anger.
Moriarty's chuckle blossomed into a full laugh. "Don't be such a baby. He's stronger than he looks. So get over it. Besides, it's his fault. I warned him not to interfere in my business matters. He could end this war anytime he wishes. All he has to do is come with me."
"He'll never go with you, as long as there's breath in my body." John speaks quietly as he glanced at Sherlock. He had not even moved from his original position, except that one hand had slipped from under the duvet. And now lay on the floor by the couch.
"Maybe I can arrange for that breath to leave your body then." Moriarty's voice was a combination of amusement and irritation. "Well, good chat pet." The line disconnected abruptly.
John stood there for a moment with the mobile phone gripped tightly in his hand. He heard the door open and close. He knew by the steps, who it was. Mycroft stepped as quietly as his brother. If it wasn't for the opening and closing of the door, he would not have known that he was behind him.
"Was that wise, John?" Mycroft said quietly behind him. He did not need to see him to know that he was glancing at his brother.
"No, but it seemed good at the time." He did not ask Mycroft how he knew about the conversation. If the flat was bugged this was one time that he was almost grateful. John silenced Sherlock's mobile. This was the first time in their relationship, that he had ever done such a thing, without Sherlock's permission. John turned around and looked at Sherlock along with Mycroft. Today he would excuse himself. It was not a usual day.
There was an inpatient silence for a minute. Then John moved abruptly, he could not force himself to remain still a moment longer. He spoke as he went along.
"I think I made him angry." John said needlessly. "Tea?" He asked as he looked at the man that he had come to consider, more and more, his friend. Although he knew that Mycroft would never use those words.
Mycroft turn to John and gave a small smile. It was strained. "Yes," he followed John quietly toward the kitchen.
The elder Holmes stopped and watched as John gently lifted Sherlock's hand, and shifted it to rest on his stomach. He then pulled the duvet up to his chin, and then tucked it under. He looked as if he wished that there was more that he could do. After a few seconds of hesitation he resumed moving toward the kitchen.
"How is he?" Mycroft already knew the answer. But he needed to talk, and so did John.
"The same," John went quietly about. He seemed to concentrate on the simple task of turning the light on. Mycroft watched in silence. The sounds and smells of the tea, the high-pitched shriek of the kettle, the water boiling, the gentle clinking sound of porcelain cups being set on wooden trays, were all soothing. Both men rested in the comfortable silence that engulfed them. After a moment they sat at the table, quietly sipping.
Mycroft cleared his throat. He looked deep in thought as a frown knit his brow. John wondered if Mycroft was aware that his facade was fully lowered. "Don't be too concerned John. Moriarty will have plenty to distract him very shortly."
John pointedly looked at Mycroft. He did not say a word with his mouth, but his eyes held a questioning look.
Mycroft returned John's look, "We found two more bank accounts. They are being seized as we speak. We found two hidden properties. We arrested everyone within those two properties. Unfortunately, after the arrests, the properties mysteriously… Exploded." He took another sip as if he was talking about the weather, not blowing up someone's property. "Moriarity should be finding out about our, shall we say, activities," Mycroft's fingers clasped his pocket watch, as he pulled it out and looked before commenting, "now."
John looked for a second as he processed information. He did not try to hide the small smile that graced his lips. They drank tea in silence for a few seconds.
"Exploded," John commented before taking another sip.
"Yes," Mycroft replied.
John smile became wider, "Mysteriously," John added as he raised an eyebrow looking at Mycroft.
"Quite," Mycroft looked back not flinching.
"Good," John resumed drinking his tea as if nothing had happened. If it was anyone else, John would have said that Mycroft had made an emotional decision. But that was impossible. This was Mycroft Holmes. John took a sip as he looked at Mycroft, curiously.
They both looked as Sherlock's mobile phone screen suddenly lit up. Someone was trying to reach Sherlock.
"Yes, Moriarty is aware." Mycroft said casually.
John poured out another cup of tea for Mycroft.
They both looked as the mobile phone screen again lit, to indicate an incoming call. Both men looked at each other, and then looked away. They both ignored Sherlock's mobile.
"More cream and sugar?" John asked casually.